


Afternoon Delight

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No Sex, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Castiel is still trying to adjust to the requirements of his human body and Dean indulges his bad habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Delight

**Author's Note:**

> _Good grief, I'm sorry, ya'll. There were some glaring typos that I somehow missed in my rush this morning. They're fixed now._ :-|

Castiel never truly appreciated Dean's ability to run for days on too little sleep and too much caffeine.  What a wakeup call it had been when he realized that he needed a minimum of six hours sleep to be anything resembling truly functional and worse, that even if he figured out a way to mainline coffee, its effects never quite included "feeling like I slept long enough".

When Castiel crawls out of the Impala, the sun is starting to dip low in the afternoon sky and he's exhausted.  Their day started too early after they'd been up reading far too late, trying to get a jump on this whatever-it-is that's terrorizing single men throughout Nashville.  When he pushes the Impala's heavy door closed, he looks over the top of the car to see Dean watching him with a frown.  He looks away quickly, but not before Castiel sees the worry tighten into familiar lines around his eyes.

"C'mon, Cas, let's get some food.  We've done what we can until Sam gets back from talking to the people on his list."

Castiel nods wearily, trying not to think about how much more he could get done if only he were still an angel.  He watches as Dean walks away and can't help wonder if the same thoughts are going through his head.  He stands up straighter and moves to follow, but a sudden wave of sleepiness washes over him.

"Dean," he calls quietly.  "You go ahead, I'm just going to go back to the room."

"Yeah, okay," Dean answers, changing his course.  His shoulder brushes against Castiel's as they walk toward the door of the motel room they're sharing.  "Dinner can wait if you're not hungry."

Castiel chances a look at Dean and sees a hint of a smile barely turning up the corners of his lips, but Dean says nothing more.  When they reach the door, he fishes the key out of his jeans pocket and unlocks it, pushing it open and gesturing for Castiel to go ahead of him.  The room is dim although they left every lamp switched on when they left and it's blessedly cool after the almost-too-warm air outside.

On the opposite side of the room from the two double beds - only one of them showing any sign of having been slept in - there's a small couch and an ancient television.  Castiel briefly considers a shower before deciding he'd rather sleep instead, but before he can make it to the bed, Dean's got him by the arm and is pulling him toward the couch.

"If I let you go to bed now, you'll be up before dark and then you'll keep  _me_  up all night," Dean tells him with a laugh.  "Let's watch TV for a while."

Dean's right; of course.  Castiel's still trying to get a handle on the things that make him human and sleep is the worst of it.  No matter how much sleep he gets, it's never enough, but it's  _just_  enough to stop him getting any more.  Grudgingly he gives his conditional agreement, "All right, but I get to pick the show."

Dean offers the remote to him before shucking his overshirt, flopping down on the couch, and kicking his boots off.  Castiel takes a little more care in pushing his shoes off, lining them up neatly at the end of the couch before he joins Dean.  He turns on the TV, turns it down to a dull roar, and flips through the channels; eyelids getting heavier and heavier as the seconds tick by.

By the time he settles on a Looney Tunes show, he's leaned heavily against Dean's body and Dean's arm is around his shoulders.  Castiel rests his head against Dean's jaw, struggling to keep his eyes open as the comically overdone music and sound effects from the TV begin to hypnotize him.  He laughs when an anvil lands on the coyote's head, feels Dean's matching chuckle as much as he hears it.  Dean's body is warm and soft and Castiel decides to put his feet up and stretch out a little.

"Don't you go to sleep," Dean grumbles, a teasing lilt in his voice.  "Watch your damn cartoons."

"Mmhmm," Castiel answers as Dean's arm tightens around his shoulders, pulls him closer.  He holds one eye open and closes the other, then lets them trade off.  The sound of Dean's heartbeat, the steady thump and the accompanying rise and fall of Dean's chest with each breath is soothing, the closest thing to a home Castiel has.  He decides to close his eyes just for a second because his eyelids are too heavy.

***

"Cas?  Cas, wake up."

Dean's voice sounds far away but much too loud as consciousness touches the edges of Castiel's mind.  He jerks, tries to sit upright, but there's a weight around his shoulders holding him down.  He tries to pull away but gives up quickly when his senses start to come fully online and he realizes it's only Dean's arm.

"You awake yet?" Dean's whispering against the top of his head, tickling his scalp with the movement of hair.  Castiel gives a noncommittal grunt and burrows closer against the warmth of Dean's body and once again, Dean's arm tightens around his shoulders.  He feels a kiss pressed to the top of his head, feels Dean's lips turn up in a smile, and he can't help but smile, too.

It takes a moment to realize it's dark since the room was already so dim and the television is still on.  Castiel lifts his head and looks around, reaching up to rub the sleep from the corners of his eyes as he blinks them rapidly and yawns.  He feels a pang of guilt at the realization that it is, in fact, after dark, but Dean smiles indulgently and kisses the tip of his nose.

"Good nap?" Dean's voice is thick with the unmistakeable rumble of slumber and upon closer inspection, Castiel sees the slight puffiness around his eyes in the flicker of the TV.

"Yes," Castiel answers, tucking his cheek back against Dean's shoulder, the guilt gone with the knowledge that Dean slept, too.  Dean shifts, pulling gently to extract his arm from under Castiel's weight.  Cas yawns again and sits up before he asks: "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to know that we need to get you hooked on something other than Looney Tunes."  Dean pushes himself up stiffly from the couch, shaking the arm that was previously wrapped around Castiel and laughing at his own words.  As he walks toward the bathroom, Castiel glares after him without malice, deciding to take the high road.  It isn't as though he hasn't  _tried_  to explain the philosophical implications of cartoons before, after all.

Even as his stomach growls to remind him that he skipped dinner, Castiel smiles, deciding that being human has its advantages.


End file.
